


Cat and Mouse

by ventusphoenix



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Reincarnation AU, i love to die, other characters/tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventusphoenix/pseuds/ventusphoenix
Summary: He’s long grown tired of introductions. After a while, he grows tired of fleeting touches that chill his skin, of promises that are lost to time, of memories that resemble the ghosts of his past. Each time, he finds himself starting anew; each time, he finds himself drowning again.





	1. picture perfect fading smiles

**Author's Note:**

> (of course my first contribution to the ToZ fandom would be angst.)
> 
> The idea for this fic is loosely based on one of [Nami](https://twitter.com/defragmentise)'s AU prompts: "Let this be an AU where Mikleo struggles not to form attachments to every single reincarnated Sorey and failing every time." - check out her Twitter/Tumblr for more AU prompts and art, they're all A+++!
> 
> Also shout-out to the Twitter crew for putting up with my not-quite-previews and complaining while I wrote this fic. Thanks for all your enthusiasm and encouragement that kept me going.

It had been a whispered promise under a diamond-studded sky.

“I’ll wait, for as long as it takes.”

And he does wait.

Not realising that he won’t ever stop waiting.

* * *

He thinks his eyes are playing tricks when he arrives back at his house in Elysia to find the front door slightly ajar. He tilts his head to the side, wondering if it was a mistake on his part and he didn’t shut the door properly before going exploring that day. He pays little attention to it, entering his house all the same until a figure in the corner causes him to freeze in his steps.

There’s no mistaking the mop of chocolate brown hair or the feathered ear cuffs hanging off either side of his head, sweeping his cheek with the slight breeze that had blown in when Mikleo entered the space. Something catches painfully in his chest, like the weight of the past 300 years has finally caught up to him. He barely registers the other figure turning at the light wind, and Mikleo finally releases the breath he had been holding.

“S… So—” He can’t even bring himself to say his name, too afraid of the lingering fear that this isn’t real.

“The Celestial Record,” the other boy finally speaks, and _oh_ how long it’s been since he heard that voice. He still remembers the way his name would roll so naturally off the other’s tongue, the way their shared voice would ring in their heart and mind. “It’s one of my favourites too!”

Mikleo freezes at that, something in his gut telling him this isn’t right. The weight in his chest starts to feel even heavier as his outstretched hand – which had unconsciously been reaching for the once shepherd – hangs limply in empty air.

“Sorey… you—”

“Oh, I’m sorry! This must be your house!” Sorey continues, oblivious to Mikleo’s discomfort as he scratches the nape of his neck. The motion is so familiar it’s painful to watch, but even so Mikleo can’t seem to tear his eyes away. “I-I didn’t mean to trespass or anything, I was just following this feeling that I had and...”

Now he knows something is definitely off. The boy standing in front of him is too distant, too unfamiliar. But Mikleo knows, it’s him – it couldn’t be anyone else. When he finally finds it in himself to respond, he does so with a shake of his head, eyes cast towards the ground.

“It’s fine.”

As if lying to himself will make this any easier.

“Well, thanks! For understanding, I mean. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, but following my gut led me here,” Sorey laughs, as if not sure how to respond to this situation. “Into a complete stranger’s house. But hey, it looks like you’ve read the Celestial Record as well so I guess we’ve already got something in common!”

He motions to the book in his hands before shifting it under his left arm so he can greet Mikleo properly.

“I’m Sorey, by the way!”

This isn’t how he envisioned their reunion to go. He should have been in Sorey’s arms by now, clinging tightly to the other as if he’s about to leave again, welcoming him home over and over in whispered murmurs. Instead he’s met with an empty shell of his childhood friend who turns up as a stranger in his house. Yet for all that, Mikleo can’t bring himself to be angry with him. 

His movement feels sluggish and unnatural as he takes the other’s hand in his gloved one. The contact is warm for a moment, but it’s only temporary as he begins to understand the gravity of the situation. Suddenly it’s as if the temperature has dropped, the air coiling tightly around him making it difficult to breathe. He struggles to form words, like he wants to scream for the other but he can’t. 

And Mikleo thinks to himself that this must be what it feels like to drown.

“Mikleo. It’s nice to meet you, Sorey.”

* * *

He had been prepared to fall. It all happened so quickly, one moment exploring and then the next falling. He thought that maybe it was time; he had accomplished much, seen more of the world than he could have ever hoped. All that was left was to fall. 

Besides, he had done his waiting. No doubt, he was waiting for him as well. And Mikleo wasn’t one to keep him waiting.

He steels himself, eyes closed and ready to submit to the endless dark when his arm jerks upward and he gasps, looking down at his feet. He is met with a pitch-black void, his body suspended in emptiness. Mikleo cranes his head up, squinting against the bright light. He can make out a figure’s shape against the light as he follows their outstretched arm down to his hand. His breath catches when he sees the hand that curls around his own, taking notice of the pair of bright orange feathers that decorate the cuff of the glove.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” A young male voice shouts from above, and Mikleo’s heart races at the sound of his voice. Their voice alone is enough to breathe new life into him as he is wordlessly hoisted up out of the pitfall.

He braces his hands against the stone floor, heart still fluttering madly under his skin as he looks towards his saviour. The young man is lying on his back, small gasps of laughter escaping his lips between heaving breaths. Mikleo rubs at his eyes, both because he can’t believe the sight in front of him and to clear his blurred vision.

“Phew, that was a close one!” The young man grins, sitting up properly to greet him. “Are you okay?”

No, he is not okay. Mikleo had dealt with the ghosts of his past long ago and come to terms with them, but now they were back to haunt him. The fluttering in his chest has not stopped since he caught wind of the young man’s voice.

“Well, you did have quite a fall there,” he continues, undeterred by the seraph’s lack of response. “Must’ve been some shock!”

“Y-Yeah…”

Standing up to his full height, the young man stretches his arms out in front of him before extending a hand towards Mikleo.

“Can you stand?”

The sight in front of him is painfully familiar; Mikleo recalls all the times in the past Sorey would lend him a helping hand, or when their roles were reversed and he was the one hoisting Sorey to his feet. Each time, the action was representative of their mutual care, worry and understanding. It was like a secret language, a series of unspoken words that they didn’t need to voice when it came to each other.

_“Looks like you’re hopeless without me.” “You really need to be more careful.” “Let’s go together.” “I won’t leave you behind.”_

This time is no different.

As Mikleo is helped to his feet, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the boy, clutching onto him dearly and fighting back sobs.

“W-Whoa! What’s the—”

“Please,” Mikleo chokes out, voice just above a whisper, muffled as he buries his face into his shoulder. “Please, just let me have this…” 

His hold tightens as he takes deep breaths to steady himself. If it meant having a second chance, he’s willing to live with the ghosts of his past. Nothing can haunt him, not when the person he’s embracing is real and _here_ and oh how he’s missed his touch and his warmth.

It’s tentative at first, but he feels a pair of arms encircling his waist, pulling him closer, a cheek pressing into his neck. There’s a faint dampness seeping into his shoulder, the quietest of sniffles causing his breath to hitch. Fingers absentmindedly trace shapes, rubbing small circles into the curve of his back.

“It’s strange,” the boy starts, attempting to laugh but his tears make it come out more like a broken hiccup. All the while, his fingers never leave Mikleo’s back. “I don’t know who you are – I mean, we’ve just met – but somehow this feels right. Like I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

Fresh tears begin to prick at Mikleo’s eyes, his lips set in a thin line. He buries his face further in an attempt to stop them from falling, fistfuls of the youth’s shirt crumpling between his fingers.

He has a second chance, but he would be starting over from zero again.

“Is that weird to you?”

Mikleo lifts his head, grip on the fabric loosening but his hands remain pressed against his back. He urges himself to look at his face, tracing the path of tearstains running down his cheek. He stares into bright green eyes that remain unchanged; they are just as he remembers them, full of light as if they held the stars.

He reaches a gloved palm up to cradle his cheek, thumb sweeping lightly over the skin under his eyes, where he can see new tears threatening to spill as he shakes his head.

“No… you’re right where you belong, Sorey.”

* * *

He busies himself with exploration, researching the underground passageways deep in the Mt. Mabinogio Ruins just outside of Elysia. Even though it’s been a couple hundred years since he and Sorey first stumbled across them by accident, Mikleo remembers the events as if they had happened only yesterday, even though they feel like an eyeblink in the seraph’s lifetime. Such memories are not so easily forgotten, not when Sorey is at the forefront and centre of most of them. 

He thinks back to when he first met Alisha and how their meeting served as the catalyst for their journey to the world below. A bittersweet smile flickers across his face as he navigates the twisting corridors with his staff in hand, pale blue light pulsing from its tip to guide him through dusty hallways. 

It almost seemed fitting for Mikleo to return to where everything began after the final battle, and yet when he did he couldn’t believe how far the ruins stretched underground. It had taken multiple trips over several years as he tried to map out as much of the ruins as he could, and he still felt like he hadn’t covered even half of it.

Now, as he finds himself in a new room that he hasn’t visited before, his suspicions are confirmed and he can’t help but chuckle lightly. Even though he’s underground, the room is filled with light coming from above, streams of it creating intricate shapes on the ground below. They sway gently, almost like ripples on water. He takes in the sight, sighing deeply when he remembers the empty space to his right. He unconsciously reaches for the feather hanging from his waist, lightly brushing against it.

His trance is broken by the sound of footsteps entering from the other side of the room, and once again his breath is stolen away. The boy who enters has the largest smile on his face, visibly struggling to contain his excitement as he begins to take in the architecture of the room. His hand runs along the length of the wall to his left, his eyes caught on something in the ceiling above.

“Sorey…?”

His name comes out barely a whisper, but it’s enough to grab the boy’s attention, even if he didn’t catch that it was his name that was being said.

“Whoa, another person!” Sorey says excitedly, practically bounding up to Mikleo’s side. “I can’t believe it! Were you exploring as well?”

Mikleo is still shocked and gapes at him silently, his mouth hanging slightly open with words that he can’t seem to get out. His body is trembling, his grip on his staff going slack and causing it to clatter to the ground. He feels numb, like he’s drowning again, sounds and sights muffled by the dark depths of the waters. It would be easy to stay here where it’s quiet, and he wouldn’t have to worry about the aching pain in his heart that had resurfaced.

That’s when something warm grips onto his arm, not forcefully but enough to bring him back.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Mikleo opens his eyes, not even realising how tightly he had had them scrunched up. His vision fills with concerned green eyes, brows knit together in worry. He becomes aware of the hand resting on his elbow, fingers pressed into his sleeve as if to remind him of Sorey’s presence.

Mikleo lets out a small gasp before processing the question again. He gently brushes Sorey’s hand away, and the ache in his chest burns painfully with the action.

It’s the first time he’s rejected one of Sorey’s touches.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes trained on the ground as he bends down to pick up his fallen staff. He doesn’t bother to brush the stray hair out of his eyes when he straightens to his full height.

“You don’t need to apologise!” Sorey still looks concerned, and rightfully so but he doesn’t press Mikleo for answers which the seraph is grateful for. Instead he shifts the topic, much to his relief. “So, I take it you were exploring the ruins as well?”

“Yes,” Mikleo replies simply. His gaze shifts back to the ruins, taking in the sight of the ceiling again. It’s a welcome distraction from his current situation.

“Hey, how about we explore together?”

It’s a question he had feared was coming. Because he knows that faced with that decision, he won’t be able to say no. And for a moment, he allows himself to settle back into old habits.

Even knowing he’ll regret the decision later.

He turns to Sorey with the smallest smirk on his face, free hand resting against his hip.

“Are you… lost?”

He watches the way Sorey’s face goes from excited to embarrassed and then nervous, as he furiously shakes his head and turns away with a pout.

“I’m not lost!” Sorey protests, but he never was a very good liar. Mikleo wouldn’t ever forget that. More than that, it reminded him that despite the span of decades and centuries, some things remained unchanged. “T-These ruins are just really huge, okay!” 

“That they are,” Mikleo nods in agreement, staff tapping on the ground as he starts for the hallway that Sorey had originally entered from. “I’ve been mapping these ruins for years, and I still haven’t reached the end of them.”

It’s not a direct answer to Sorey’s earlier question, and the invitation is subtle but he seems to catch on easily. His boots clap against the stone floor as he hurries to catch up to Mikleo, but his steps fall just short of the doorway.

“Wait!” he calls, and Mikleo stops in his tracks. “Your name… you haven’t told me your name yet.”

Mikleo turns his head just slightly, enough to glance at Sorey from the corner of his eye. It’s a subject he had been avoiding, hoping that with time Sorey would recall his name as if he’d never forgotten it. No, he had wanted to _believe_ that Sorey would remember.

“Mikleo,” he says, not quite looking Sorey in the eye. The words feel forced around the lump in his throat.

“Mikleo?” He repeats the name, and something akin to a hint of recognition flickers briefly across his face. Mikleo holds his breath, waiting to see if his name startles any further reaction. But nothing happens, and Sorey’s next words flow on so naturally that Mikleo berates himself for hoping for something more.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Sorey!”

* * *

He soon grows tired of introductions. Each time he repeats his name, it is like a silent prayer for change. With every iteration, he makes a wish for something to be different, for even the slightest recognition.

But when he is met with disappointment each time, he tries not to let it show on his face. It becomes easier as time goes on, because he no longer sheds tears as he used to.

* * *

Eventually, even touches that once warmed his skin now burn painfully in their wake. He tries to limit their contact to only what is necessary, but it becomes difficult because Sorey still insists on rushing to his side when he becomes hurt in a fight, or helping him to his feet when he’s down. 

One time after they take out a pack of wild wolves together, Sorey is wiping the sweat off his brow when he turns to Mikleo with an outstretched fist, arm raised in front of him at chest height. Mikleo stares at it, feeling his whole body tremble. His arm twitches at his side, fingers flexing as he searches for a response.

He tentatively raises his arm to mirror Sorey’s, slowly stretching his arm to meet the other. But just when their wrists are about to make contact, Mikleo’s clenches his fist tightly and pulls away, turning sharply on his heel. He’s aware of Sorey’s voice calling out for him but he doesn’t stop. He just needs the space to himself, needs to be away from Sorey.

When he’s a good distance away, Mikleo wraps his arms tightly around his body, hugging himself as he allows a shaky breath to escape. He just can’t bring himself to do it, no matter how many times Sorey remembers. Because after a while, Mikleo realised it wasn’t the same.

Sorey never remembered the time in their childhood when they first thought to come up with the gesture, never remembered the numerous iterations they went through before settling on the one they came to call their own.

He never remembered meeting another human for the first time, or leaving Elysia so they could explore the world below. He never remembered the fight they had shortly after Sorey became Shepherd and refused to let Mikleo get caught up in the Shepherd’s duty.

He didn’t remember the dream they shared, affirmed when they armatised together for the first time. He didn’t remember the losses they faced on their journey, couldn’t see how much Mikleo suffered because he was forcing himself to remember on behalf of both of them.

Sorey didn’t remember the promise Mikleo had made to him that star-studded night in Lastonbell, just before the final battle.

Mikleo finds himself thinking that maybe it’s for the best. Because he’s not sure how much longer he can keep it for.

Sorey catches up to him then, resting a hand on his shoulder. Mikleo flinches at the contact and immediately jerks, but Sorey doesn’t drop his hand. Unfurling his arms from around himself, Mikleo twists and grabs Sorey’s wrist with more strength than necessary, forcing the pair to look each other in the eye.

Mikleo is staring down Sorey with a cold gaze, his pent-up frustration and anger beginning to leak out. But the youth doesn’t waver as he matches Mikleo’s stare with an equally determined gaze, not allowing the seraph to intimidate him. Under his gaze, Mikleo’s grip begins to slacken and he realises again that he can’t bring himself to be angry at Sorey, no matter how many times he finds himself caught in this exact situation, repeating the same scene.

He drops onto his knees before the youth, finally allowing himself to cry. It starts with small sobs that gradually become more broken, the icy walls around his heart that he spent years building up finally beginning to melt. At Sorey’s touch, Mikleo’s cries become even more uncontrollable as he finds himself surrounded by a pair of strong arms, holding him gently and trying to soothe him with slow caresses down his back.

“I-I’m— I’m sorry, Sorey…” Mikleo gasps, the words coming out strained even to his ears. “I’m so sorry, I c-couldn’t keep my promise… I’m sorry…!” 

Sorey says nothing and continues to hold him, grip tightening with each apology that Mikleo sobs out. He repeats himself over and over, even as his throat becomes hoarse with the words. But Mikleo knows deep in his heart that that isn’t even the most painful part.

What hurts the most is that Sorey doesn’t even know what promise he’s talking about.

* * *

He’s tired of waiting.

It’s been so long, he almost forgets what it is he’s waiting for.

Instead, he finds himself counting down the days he has.

Mikleo decides to live his life one day at a time, far from the seemingly endless eternity he has as a seraph. He closes his eyes in thought, thinking on how human lives are practically tiny flickers of light compared to his beacon of starlight. 

And while one person was like the sun to him, it didn’t change the reality of his weak human life.

Some lives were longer than others. It’s a concept that Mikleo had grown increasingly familiar with over the many centuries. He never allows himself to get his hopes up, resorting to taking each day as it comes.

But this time will be different.

Mikleo is seated at the edge of the altar that once held the Sacred Bow when he senses movement within the Galahad Ruins. Another person has entered; their movements are slow, but steady as they begin to navigate their way through the ruins. Mikleo stands, staff in hand and turns to the entryway of the room, hearing the footsteps coming closer.

He brandishes his staff, and the familiar rush of an arte travels along his arm, extending through his fingertips as a cool light begins to surround him. Swirls of mist envelop his body and his form disappears from view just as the stranger enters the room. From inside the bubble of his Spectral Cloak, everything looks blurry as if he has opened his eyes underwater.

But he already knows who the stranger is.

Mikleo watches as Sorey approaches the altar, touching a hand to the pedestal that now lays empty. He can see the way his eyebrows knit together, the firm line of his mouth as he tries to guess what used to lay upon this pedestal. Mikleo takes a single step towards him, studying his features from the other side of the pedestal. As if hearing his footstep, Sorey’s head snaps up and Mikleo finds himself staring eye-to-eye with him.

His bold green eyes are shimmering with what appears to be hopefulness. He hears the sharp breath that Sorey draws, before he exhales and lowers his gaze. He withdraws from the altar and shuffles past Mikleo, almost close enough for his shoulder to brush against the edge of his bubble.

As he watches Sorey’s retreating back, Mikleo allows the Spectral Cloak to fade. He presses a gloved palm to his chest where the ache in his heart has not let up. He knows what he’s doing, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

He leaves the ruins without a second look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially had the meetings numbered, but then I decided to leave it ambiguous.
> 
> Now we have no way of telling just how many cycles Mikleo has been through. ಥ‿ಥ
> 
> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you thought of this first part.


	2. heartlines on your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every introduction was marked by a greeting, a handshake; every relationship ended with goodbye.
> 
> For Mikleo who has lived through each of them, they are a painful reminder of the endless cycle he can’t escape.
> 
> But for Sorey, each one is a chance to fall in love with Mikleo all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to progress with the story, but then talks with the Twitter crew gave birth to this chapter.  
> Thanks again fam for all your ideas and for letting me discuss with you!

He learns him slowly, beginning with featherlight touches. The other never shies away, rather leans in even closer to his caresses, as if it is the last thing keeping him grounded. Sorey notices the way his presence always seems to have a calming effect on Mikleo. When the seraph is hunched over his writing desk with brows furrowed together, Sorey can feel his tension easing away as soon as he rests a hand on his shoulder. In the midst of battle, when Sorey claps a hand on Mikleo’s back, the silent smile that crosses his face in that moment lets Sorey know that Mikleo has his back too.

The touches are comforting, warming, and so natural even that Sorey never questions them, and neither does Mikleo.

It takes time, but Mikleo comes to return the touches as well. His touches begin gently, hesitant as fingers brush against his arm when they’re at home. He takes Sorey by surprise one night when his fingers flutter against his side with more confidence, a smirk on his face. Sorey lets out a yelp of surprise, fingers inadvertently brushing against Mikleo’s side as well. The way he flinches and suppresses his own yelp doesn’t go unnoticed by Sorey, who ignores the seraph’s piercing glare to jab at his sides.

The sound of laughter rings throughout their house, limbs tangling together in their ensuing tickle fight as jabs are exchanged between the two. They collapse onto the bed in a fit of giggles, slowly regaining their breath. Sorey glances over at Mikleo and can’t help but smile to himself. His pale cheeks are now dusted a faint pink, his hair falling into his eyes and splayed out on the pillow around his head. Mikleo turns his head to look at Sorey, a smile coming over his face as well. 

Sorey’s fingers creep close to Mikleo’s hand, resting gently on the back of his hand. It’s not a question so much as an invitation; they never questioned the shared touches between them, and certainly not now. Mikleo’s face softens even more as he turns his hand, fingers easing into the spaces between Sorey’s, linking their hands together in quiet surrender. 

In that moment, Sorey can only describe Mikleo as beautiful, the warmth of his hand seeping into his own. He wants to continue laughing with him and sharing more moments like this where it’s quiet and peaceful and all they have and need is each other.

Because for Sorey, it feels as if this is the first time he’s ever seen Mikleo truly smile since meeting him.

* * *

Water buzzes all around Sorey, tossing him about as he fights against the current. It’s hard to breathe and his vision swims in oceans of dark and rain. Limbs flail about uselessly, his fingers catching briefly on a boulder jutting out from the ground. His arms are shaking with exhaustion as he struggles to heave himself up, rain continuing to pelt down on his already damp hair. But another violent wave knocks the air out of him, sending Sorey once again into the dark depths.

There’s a name he wants to cry out, but he can’t seem to get it out around the burning in his lungs. Black creeps into the corners of his vision, and he closes his eyes to the sounds of water rushing past him and lightning splitting the sky.

When Sorey comes to, he can feel the gentle warmth of a gloved hand brushing wet strands of hair out of his face. Behind closed eyelids he can still feel the raging torrents, and he half-expects to find himself spiralling through violent waters when he opens his eyes. But instead, his vision fills with a pair of concerned violet eyes crying over him. Immediately, a name cuts through the fog of his mind, the same name he had wanted to cry out earlier.

“Mikleo…?”

“Sorey! Thank goodness, you’re okay!” Mikleo exclaims, quickly brushing tears from his face. If it were any other moment, Sorey would have poked fun at him for crying, but he knows that now is not the time. “Are you hurt?”

Sorey closes his eyes, processing the question. Nothing hurts, but he gathers that the fogginess of his mind and the slowness of his movements are due to exhaustion. Lifting a heavy arm, his fingers grasp Mikleo’s hand as he shakes his head. Sorey attempts to sit up, fighting the momentary grogginess that threatens to pull him under. To his relief, Mikleo helps him up by tugging gently on their linked hands, his free hand going to Sorey’s back.

“Thanks,” Sorey mumbles, giving the seraph a small smile. But it soon fades when he notices the faint trace of tears pooling at the corner of his eyes and the redness of his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mikleo… you warned me that the river was prone to flooding in this weather, and yet…”

The slight pressure of a gloved finger against his lips silences his next thoughts before he can finish the sentence. Mikleo shakes his head, managing a small smile.

“You had me so scared I had lost you again,” he murmurs, his breath hitching at the last part. “But you’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

Sorey nods slowly, lightly squeezing Mikleo’s hand. He wants to ask what he means by again, but before he can do so his attention is caught by something else.

“Mikleo, your feather…”

The seraph tilts his head before dropping his gaze. Sorey points to the cord around Mikleo’s waist, where a brightly coloured feather normally sat on his hip. But now, only the cord remained and the feather was nowhere in sight. He watches Mikleo’s shoulders quiver, his eyes darting around for any trace of it.

“It must have been when I…” Mikleo’s sentence trails off, and Sorey can hear the panic beginning to rise in his voice. At that moment, he takes notice of his damp flattened hair and the way his clothes stick to his body. He realises then that Mikleo is far too wet for someone simply caught in the recent storm.

“It’s my fault,” Sorey murmurs, gears turning in his head as he puts two and two together. “You were there in the river saving me, and because of me you—”

“You nearly drowned, and you’re blaming yourself over a feather?” Mikleo cuts him off, almost too quickly and shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. “You really are an idiot.”

Sorey doesn’t respond, but he can hear the slightly bitterness in his laugh, the way his voice has a sharp edge to it that he can’t quite pinpoint.

“Sorry, I’ll—”

“It’s fine,” Mikleo quickly cuts him off again with a wave of his hand, lightly jabbing his side for good measure. “I mean, it was just a feather… it’s okay.”

Sorey simply nods, wordlessly allowing Mikleo to pull him to his feet. Mikleo had said it was okay, so he saw no need to bring it up again. But the slight moment of hesitation in his last sentence tells Sorey that it had been more than an ordinary feather.

* * *

They find themselves in Mikleo’s home with books and tomes spread out around them, some open to specific pages while others are filled with tabs and ribbons to mark places. Sorey sits cross-legged across from Mikleo who is reading on the floor, propped on his elbows. He glances up in time to see Mikleo idly turn a page in his book, ponytail falling over his shoulder as he angles his head to read the text. His violet eyes are bright, blinking gently as they follow the words running across the page. A stray lock of hair comes loose, which he quickly brushes away and tucks behind his ear as he continues reading. Sorey doesn’t even register he’s stopped reading, his book open to the same page for the whole time he was watching Mikleo. He closes his tome with a soft thump, shifting it off of his lap. The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Mikleo, who glances up from his own book to eye him.

“Finished already?" 

“Y-Yeah…”

The nervousness in his voice is suddenly apparent, and Sorey knows that Mikleo has taken notice of this as well. He watches him set a bookmark in his place before closing the book, rolling onto his side so that he can sit up properly.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, nothing’s the matter… I just…”

His sentence trails off, unable to phrase what he wants to say into words. He knows that not saying anything will only prompt further questioning from Mikleo, who is still waiting on him for an answer. Sucking in a deep breath, Sorey ignores the frantic beat of his heart and steels himself to respond.

“Just… don’t move, okay?”

Mikleo is visibly confused, but Sorey simply scoots closer to his side until he is leaning over him. Bold green eyes meet Mikleo’s violet ones as he tries to read what he is feeling in that moment. It’s mostly confusion, with maybe a hint of embarrassment as he notices the faint pink of his cheeks. He imagines that his face probably looks the same, but the pounding of his ears is drowned out the moment his lips meet Mikleo’s.

The delicate touches are exchanged for the brushing of mouths against each other, the crushing softness representative of their tentativeness, their inexperience, how Sorey allows Mikleo to set the pace of their relationship. He hears Mikleo gasp into his mouth, feels the way his body momentarily freezes up, caught by surprise. But then he eases into the kiss, Mikleo’s hand running up Sorey’s shirt to lightly pull him closer by the collar. Sorey allows it, placing a hand on Mikleo’s shoulder to support himself. They separate briefly to catch their breath, the haziness of their minds as warm as the puffs of air shared between them. Sorey leans in again and Mikleo meets him halfway with a soft moan, one hand on the back of his neck as he plays with the shorter strands of hair at his nape.

When they part, Sorey pulls back enough to keep his gaze locked on Mikleo, his hand still resting on his shoulder. His face is even more flushed than before, and he laughs when Mikleo averts his gaze, turning even redder with embarrassment. Sorey leans forward to press his lips to Mikleo’s forehead, catching the soft tufts of his fringe just above his circlet.

“I love you,” Sorey murmurs into his skin, as if marking him with his words. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it always feels so right hearing them leave his mouth. His lips ghost across his forehead, skipping over his eyelids as he leaves a trail of kisses down his cheek. The skin there is warm, wet with tears that begin to flow from his eyes. Sorey kisses each of them before they can fall, wiping the ones that spill from his other eye with careful brushes of his thumb.

“I don’t— I don’t deserve this…” Mikleo manages to say. “Even after all this time… I still can’t—”

Sorey cuts him off with another kiss, their noses bumping with the motion. His kiss becomes more desperate as he tries to chase Mikleo’s fears away, wants to kiss away all the insecurity he’s harbouring. Cradling his cheek, he wills him to open his eyes so he can meet his gaze.

“It’s okay, Mikleo,” he smiles at him, pressing their foreheads together. Despite the shared warmth of their skin and the heated breaths between them, Sorey notes how he shivers at the contact. “Just being with you like this is enough.”

“No, it’s not right,” he sobs, shaking his head. He scrunches up his eyes again, pursing his lips in vain as muffled cries rack his small frame. “You deserve so much more from me…”

“Mikleo,” Sorey grips both his shoulders tightly, all seriousness in his voice. “It’s not you, please don’t blame yourself.”

He proceeds to wrap his arms around Mikleo’s frame, hugging him tightly. He nuzzles his cheek into his hair, feeling the soft locks tickle his skin. And finally he’s able to voice the concerns he had from earlier, quiet even to his own ears but loud enough for Mikleo to hear. 

“Besides, it’s my fault isn’t it?”

Mikleo’s shoulders tense then, and he inhales sharply. Sorey knows by the way that his shoulders shake and his tears flow even more that his suspicion is confirmed. Mikleo pulls him back so that their eyes can meet, his voice shaking with his next words.

“No, Sorey— t-that’s not true…” 

“I’ve seen how you look at me,” Sorey continues, brushing a thumb over Mikleo’s lips to silence him. “That sadness in your eyes? I can’t help thinking it’s because of me.”

Now it’s his turn to wipe the tears that prick at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t even realise until now that for all of Mikleo’s fear and insecurity, he had been carrying an equal amount of guilt upon himself.

“You make me so happy, but I can’t… it kills me, knowing that I’m the reason why you’re suffering.”

 _All by yourself_ , he wants to add, because Sorey has been watching him suffer in silence over the past few years that he’s spent with him. And being the cause of his anguish, he knows it’s not something that he can help Mikleo overcome.

“Sometimes I’ve thought about leaving,” he confesses. He feels Mikleo’s grip tighten the moment he says those words, his shoulders shaking even more as he continues. “It’s not fair, why should I be happy when my being here only makes it worse for you?”

Sorey peels away then, gently prying Mikleo’s grip from his arms. He takes Mikleo’s hands in his, soothing them as gently as one would a baby bird. Neither of them make eye contact, Sorey simply tracing the way Mikleo’s hands fit perfectly in his. He knows it’s a feeling he would miss, sharing warmth through their fingertips and being able to trace the small of his knuckles with careful strokes of his thumb.

“I want you to smile, Mikleo,” Sorey finally breaks the silence, his voice no more than a murmur. “But I also know that won’t happen for as long as I’m by your side.”

His grip slackens ever slightly, waiting to see how Mikleo will respond. An unspoken question hangs between the two of them; one that Sorey doesn’t need to voice and that Mikleo is forced to respond to. They are both unmoving, staying like that for a long while, quiet save for the sounds of Mikleo’s small hiccups.

Finally, Sorey lets go; he has heard his answer, and Mikleo has made his choice. He pushes up from the floor, ignoring the numbness of his legs as he steadies himself. He turns for the door and has one hand on the handle when a pair of arms wraps around his waist, and a weight presses into his back. Sorey freezes in place, the arms crushing him in a way that isn’t painful but desperate.

“Who says I’ll be able to smile if you’re gone?” Mikleo chokes. “Please don’t go… stay.”

Sorey’s hand drops from the handle to settle on one of Mikleo’s hands, holding it tightly. He wonders if a part of him is selfish for having wanted to stay, for hoping that Mikleo would come after him. The words that were spoken tonight continue to loom over his head, but for now just knowing that Mikleo wants him here is enough. 

He wriggles around to face Mikleo, tilting his chin upward to capture his mouth. There’s an unspoken promise to the way Sorey’s fingers caress the underside of Mikleo’s jaw, an exchange of unspoken words in the way that Mikleo’s lips ghost over Sorey’s. Their neediness burns in each chaste kiss, but it’s a flame that soothes the flaring desire in their hearts.

“Of course I’ll stay,” Sorey smiles against his mouth, breathing life back into him for each stolen breath. “When have I ever left you?”

* * *

He leans over the cliff, fingers extended for something that’s just a little too far out of reach. Sorey grunts and wills his arm to stretch a bit further, loose rocks tumbling where his chest presses against the edge. Desperate, he thrusts himself forward enough to snag the end of the object, smirking to himself when he manages to catch it between his fingers but that’s when he feels himself falling.

The weight of his upper body sends him spiralling from the cliff, and he can’t straighten himself up in time to utilise his grappling hook. Just as he’s closing his eyes in anticipation of the fall below, it never comes. With a splash, he finds himself inside a bubble of water, catching him in mid-air. It bobs slowly to the ground below, saving him from the fall.

“Sorey!”

Through the bubble, he can see Mikleo running towards him. A smile begins to spread across his face, and he’s about to call for the seraph’s name when the bubble bursts. Sorey winces at the hard contact with the ground, nursing the back of his head.

“Thanks for the—”

“What do you think you were doing?!”

Sorey flinches at the tone of Mikleo’s voice, angry and confused and despairing all at once. He suddenly feels bad for being the cause of it, and he can hardly lift his gaze to meet Mikleo’s, afraid of what he’ll see in his fierce violet eyes. Standing up to his full height, Sorey simply opens his hand and holds it out to Mikleo, where a pair of brightly coloured feathers sits atop his palm.

“Those are…”

“Elysalark feathers,” Sorey says, smiling down at them. “Normally they’re pretty hard to find, since elysalarks are such a rare species – even moreso outside of Elysia! So when I saw them caught on that cliff I…”

Sorey has to stop there to actually ponder the question himself. The breeze ruffles his feathered ear cuffs for a moment, as if reminding him he already has a pair of elysalark feathers on him. Why had he gone to such dangerous lengths for a couple of feathers? The answer seemed simple enough.

He holds the feathers out towards Mikleo, finally meeting his eyes. The anger that once lit up his eyes seems to dissipate immediately, replaced by fear and confusion.

“I wanted you to have them, Mikleo.”

His breath hitches, his hand reaching for the feathers but not quite touching them. Mikleo’s hand is shaking as it hovers in the air, and Sorey notices at that moment the tear that slowly snakes down his cheek.

“Mikleo?” 

“Why are you giving this to me?” he murmurs, pulling his hand back to wipe at his eyes. The tears only stop momentarily before fresh ones begin to fall, and he lets his arm drop beside him in defeat.

“I thought it would make you happy!” Sorey says a little panicked, worried about Mikleo’s sudden change in mood. Is he still mad at him about the cliff? Did he unknowingly get hurt just now?

“Mikleo please, tell me what’s wrong,” Sorey urges, grabbing his friend by the wrist. “Why are you crying?”

He half-expects Mikleo to pull away but he doesn’t, staring at Sorey with glassy violet eyes. Thankfully he’s not crying hard, so it doesn’t take him long to reign in his sobs. His next words are gentle and enough to make Sorey’s heart soar.

“Because I’m _already_ happy, Sorey,” Mikleo smiles, brushing the last of his tears away. “Because I have you.”

One of Mikleo’s hands travels down his arm, settling inside his palm to accept the elysalark feathers from him. Sorey smiles at this and begins to wonder where Mikleo will wear them. Perhaps in his ponytail, or around his waist? He doubts that the seraph will want to get ear cuffs to match his.

Mikleo then pulls him close, engulfing the youth in a hug as he quietly murmurs his thanks. At this proximity, Sorey can’t help but feel a strange sense of calm. He catches the faint scent of vanilla, sweet and smooth like the desserts he’s so fond of making. When he breathes it’s like fresh mountain air, and he’s transported back to the towering slopes of Elysia with its clear skies and boundless plains. Sorey’s hands dare to travel to the small of Mikleo’s back, but by then Mikleo is already pulling away, smiling at him.

“As expected, feathers suit you after all.”

There’s a new weight in his hair, Sorey notes. He reaches gingerly behind his head, feeling the soft curve of feathers that now adorn his small ponytail. He looks quizzically at Mikleo, cocking his head.

“You don’t want them?”

“Feathers were never my thing,” he replies with a shrug of his shoulders, fingering the cord around his waist. 

A slight wind whips around them, causing the low ponytail to tickle the back of his neck. It’s nothing compared to Mikleo’s mane of hair, but given a couple years maybe his hair would grow out to be the same length, or even longer.

“Well… how does it look?” Sorey asks with a mock twirl, the feathers on his ears swaying with the motion. He grins widely at Mikleo, hands on his hips.

Mikleo doesn’t respond straight away, and in that moment of silence Sorey feels the intense gaze of his violet eyes eyeing him heavily. His mouth opens then closes, and he spins on his heel with arms folded across his chest.

“…You look like an elysalark,” he smirks, returning to the trodden path leading to the next village. Sorey gives a pout that he knows Mikleo can’t see and runs up to him, jabbing his side and calling him jealous.

The next day, the feathers are gone much to Mikleo’s confusion. When asked about them, Sorey brushes it off.

“I wouldn’t want to _actually_ turn into an elysalark!” he exclaims, stomping his feet as if to say he liked having his two feet on the ground.

Mikleo shakes his head, making an offhanded comment about having lost the feathers already. This provokes another attack, and the topic of the feathers is dropped in favour of their tickle fight. Sorey welcomes it, hoping that it will take Mikleo’s mind off the events of yesterday.

The seraph’s forced smile had not fooled him; if the feathers were going to make Mikleo uncomfortable, Sorey didn’t want to wear them.

* * *

“Mikleo?” Sorey’s voice is weak, barely above a whisper but it’s enough to grab the seraph’s attention. A hand curls around his, much too warm but nonetheless comforting to the touch.

“I’m right here, Sorey,” Mikleo’s voice cuts through the darkness of his head, and he wills his eyes to open. His face comes into view, all violet eyes and silver hair filling his vision. He squeezes weakly on Mikleo’s hand before a violent cough racks his frame and he winces, exhaling heavily. 

“Sorry to keep you from your explorations,” he mumbles. There’s a dip at his side and then a light flick at the bridge of his nose.

“They’re your explorations as well,” Mikleo sighs, immediately brushing his forehead with a sweep of his fingers as if in apology. His fingers are soon replaced with a wet cloth, and while it does soothe his fever a little, he finds himself still missing Mikleo’s touch. “We’ll go together once you recover.”

Sorey turns over the words once again in his head, nodding and smiling to himself. One last exploration with Mikleo is all he can ask for. But though the words are said in earnestness, even he knows how bad the illness has progressed by now. Mikleo probably knows this as well, but he figured that for him, saying goodbye never got any easier. They both know what is coming next but choose to avoid it.

A selfish wish on both of their parts.

Sorey begins to talk about all the places they haven’t visited yet, but because of his fever he’s hardly able to say more than a couple words at a time. Mikleo fills in the gaps for him, recounting with perfect memory all the mountains and ruins they’ve read about in the Celestial Record. He is eventually lulled to sleep by Mikleo’s smooth voice, remaining lucid enough to feel the cool rush of chaste lips against his forehead.

When he awakes, his fever has spiked and the coughing fits have become more frequent. Mikleo does all he can to make him comfortable, trying to quench the heat with a combination of the wet cloth and his artes. He takes Sorey’s hand in his own, and it’s still much too warm but the slow, methodic rhythm of Mikleo’s thumb tracing circles on his skin is enough to lull him into sleep again.

“Hey, Mikleo?”

The seraph in question doesn’t say anything, but hums a note of acknowledgement that encourages Sorey to continue.

“Will you be okay? Without me…?”

The circles on the back of his hand have stopped, replaced by a tightening grip. Sorey can feel tiredness creeping up on him but he wills himself to fight it, afraid that he’ll miss Mikleo’s answer otherwise. It takes him so long to respond, he’s close to giving into the pull of exhaustion when he hears his answer.

“What do you think I was doing before I met you?” Mikleo finally responds, the smirk evident in his voice. But even in his hazy state, Sorey knows he’s putting on the act to protect himself.

Wriggling his right hand from underneath Mikleo’s, every bone and fibre in his arm is screaming in protest but he wants to— no, _needs_ to do this one thing while he’s still able. His fingers fumble and Mikleo eventually has to help him with it, but Sorey manages to slip the Shepherd’s glove from his hand, which he presses into Mikleo’s palm.

“N-No I can’t…” Mikleo starts, shaking his head as he eyes the glove in his hands. “I can’t take something so precious.”

“Mikleo, I’m not asking you to,” Sorey says, smiling up at him as best he can. “I _want_ you to take it.”

The world has no need for a Shepherd anymore, but he recognises that what Mikleo _does_ need is hope. If he can just give him this, he prays it will be enough. Finally, Mikleo nods his head and clenches his hand around the Shepherd’s glove.

“Thank you,” Sorey chuckles, his eyes half-lidded and fighting sleep. “Hey… are you tired?”

Again there’s another pause; it’s not nearly as long as the one from earlier, but enough for Sorey to question Mikleo’s hesitation on the topic.

“Seraphim don’t need sleep,” he remarks. “You should know that by now.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sorey huffs. For as long as he can remember, it’s always been just the two of them. Rarely has he seen Mikleo reach out to others, and he worries for the path of solitude that he’s set before him. It’s not healthy for him to continue like that, but Sorey’s finding it hard to put his concern into words. 

“Just… remember to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Same goes for you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing for me now?”

He laughs weakly when he feels Mikleo’s hand pull away almost immediately and smiles to himself. He’s already picturing the flustered look on his face and the heat on his cheeks that spreads to the tips of his ears. It’s not long before Mikleo’s fingers come creeping back, this time threading into his sweat-laced hair.

“Rest, Sorey,” he hears him murmur in a gentle voice, feeling the familiar press of cool lips to his forehead. He nods slowly in agreement, letting his eyes flutter shut. Rest sounds really good to him right now; he would see Mikleo in the morning, so the rest of their conversation could wait until then.

He doesn’t even hear the quiet echo of goodnight, nor feel the splash of rain against his cheeks, as a wave of tiredness pulls him under and he embraces the dark.

* * *

Sorey wakes up alone. 

It’s strange at first, as he’s not sure why it feels like someone should have been with him when he awoke. After the initial grogginess subsides he takes in his surroundings, staring up at the clear blue sky and listening to the sounds of wildlife roaming the forest. He sits up properly, stretching his arms as he works out the tiredness in his neck and muscles. Looking around, he finds himself at the entrance of what appears to be some ruins. The structure is grey stone, with four pillars marking a carved entryway that presumably leads down to the ruins. Sorey stands up to his full height, his legs already making a beeline for the entrance before the rest of his body can catch up.

When he enters, the ruins are quiet save for the sound of his own footsteps. He raises a hand to the nearest wall, tracing the lines of etched stone with the pads of his fingertips. There’s an ethereal quality to the ruins, a calming presence that Sorey doesn’t quite understand. He continues making his way through ornate rooms and winding hallways, stopping every now and then to take in the new sights. As he goes further, he can’t place the strange, fleeting pressure against his heart that seems to be growing stronger the longer he stays here. At the next passageway, the pressure has grown into a throbbing pulse that won’t still under his skin. His pace quickens without him realising it, and he sucks in a deep breath as he enters the next room.

But it is empty, save for a single altar in the middle of the room. Sorey places a hand against his heart, but it has gone still and returned to its usual pace, the rhythmic thumping doing little to calm his racing mind. He closes his eyes and releases the breath he had been holding, approaching the altar. At first glance it seems plain, nothing in particular standing out about it. But touching a hand to the pedestal, Sorey guesses that whatever might have been here before was of great importance, else it wouldn’t have had such a grand room of its own.

His head suddenly snaps up, half-expecting to find somebody else here. His eyes are bright and hopeful, but the steady drumming of his heart beats like a metronome in his chest, reminding him that he is alone. With a defeated sigh, he descends from the altar and brushes past empty air, continuing his descent into the heart of the ruins. At the sound of rushing water, his pace quickens and he finds himself in the final room facing a small waterfall. The water is crystal clear and cold to touch, a result of the secluded nature of the source.

The rushing of the water pounds in his ears as he approaches, kneeling down on the steps around the small pool. He places one hand on the edge of the pool, feeling the cool stone beneath his touch. The nature of the ruins slowly begins to become clearer to him, something about the waterfall feeling vaguely nostalgic in the back of his mind. His heartbeat begins to quicken again, small wingbeats against the cage of his chest. Something about the element of water had a calming effect on him, but also made his heart constrict painfully at the thought of it.

A single teardrop escapes his eye, becoming a steady stream that rolls down his cheeks. Sorey hunches over, letting his tears wet small circles into the stone.

He’s all alone, and he can’t figure out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for the positive (??) reaction! It's been a bit nerve-wracking writing for a new fandom, but I'm glad that everyone has liked the story so far! Sorry not sorry for all the tears :')
> 
> As this is an ongoing work (i.e. I'm writing as I go along) new chapters will go up as I finish writing them. Obviously with my writing schedule this will mean sporadic updates hahaha! But thank you again for all the comments!


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